


Into the breach once more.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: Blackadder, Historical RPF
Genre: 1938/1945, Adolf Hitler (mentioned), Army, Britain, Fighting, Gen, Historical, History, Home Guard, Memories, Nazi Germany, Neville Chamberlain, Politics, SOLDIER - Freeform, War, Winston Churchill (mentioned), World War 2, defence, failure for peace, munich agreement, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 08:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Edmund Blackadder read the newspapers in 1938  threatening war with Germany, but he never really thought that would  happen. Peace in our time. That was what they had promised.But when war breaks out again in 1939, Blackadder knows that he must defend the country in any way he knows how. His injuries sustained in the first  world war mean that he is unable to sign up for the front line fighting services, but he can still join the home guard, fighting to defend Britain against the  invading Nazis.





	Into the breach once more.

August, 1938.

The newspaper headlines  were growing more concerning day by day.

 Edmund Blackadder  sat in his armchair by the roaring fire,  head bent over the newspaper spread across his lap, trying his upmost to push away the frightening thoughts that  were   flitting through his  mind. The  black print standing  out in stark  relief from the white  pages was causing his heart rate to quicken as he read on, wishing that he could halt in the reading process but knowing he could not.

He read quickly, the words sliding into place in his mind. A threat of war. That was the jist of it. The media was calling for the people of Britain to begin the preparations for a  potential threat from Hitler and his Nazi party. Edmund sighed, mind dragging up the long doarment memories of the previous war, the bullets, the shelling, the mud  soaked trenches and the smell of boddies dekaying on the barbed wire. And again, their  country was   preparing to go to war.

He had barely survived the previous one. Many a night would pass without sleep. Many a dream would be filled with the sounds of men taking their last agonised breath on the blood soaked battlefield.

 Blackadder could still remember the one time he and his men were sent over the top. That had been a terrifying  event, indeed, too terrifying for words. The bullets and shells had  rained down  upon them as they had launched their  feeble  attack at the enemy. All around them, men had bowed to death as the grim reaper came swiftly, removing the souls from the battlefield and carrying them heavenwards. The smell of blood settling thick upon  the grass was a horrible thing to recall.

All but two of them had died that day.  George had been  killed three seconds after going over the  top, as a German shell hit him squarely in the chest. Baldrick too had died on the  battlefield without ever  understanding the reason for sacrificing his very life for the cause of war.

Edmund Blackadder and his fellow soldier, Kevin Darling had sustained    grievous injuries, but had survived to see the  Armistice. They had  been shipped back to England after that  first charge over the top and had spent the   remainder of  the war in the army hospital back in old Blighty.

They had been lucky. Edmund knew that all-too well. Very few of their friends had  made it home. The ones who hadn’t, had been buried over seas. George and Baldrick had been unable to return home to Britain, even in death. They had remained in  Flanders while he and Captain Darling had returned to their native shores.

Folding up the newspaper, Blackadder eased himself out of his armchair, limping across to the coffee table and  placing the paper down upon it. He stretched and winced with pain as a bolt of agony shot up his right leg. The old war wound was still giving him  considerable trouble, even  twenty years  after the fact. A gloomy thought crossed his mind. Even if Britain  did go to war with Germany again, he would be unable to  participate in the front line fighting services. His injuries meant that  to fight would be impossible and he stared bitterly into the fire,  suddenly  aware of his own lack of fighting ability. He hated this feeling of  uselessness. He hated the idea of  remaining behind while his fellow countrymen took up the challenge of defeating the Germans for the second time.

Returning to his armchair  after throwing a few more logs onto the dying fire, Edmund stretched out his injured leg with a sigh. His  house wasn’t exactly warm,  despite the fact that the August air outside  was  muggy and close. He looked out of the window, watching the children playing in the streets beyond the safety of his house. They had no idea that the country was on the brink of war. They had no idea as yet that in a  few weeks time, they would all be fitted with gass masks that would protect them from the potentiality of gass attacks. Edmund blinked. Such a blight upon life. That was what war was. They had already been subjected to a period of suffering, and the politicians of Germany, Britain, France and many others were  foolishly bringing their people closer to that suffering. Edmund wondered  whether those intrusted with the safety and security of the people knew  of the toal that a war with Germany would take on the people. He wondered  whether they even cared. He shook his head. He doubted it.

A knock  upon the door and Edmund smiled. Glancing at the clock on the  wall, he bayed the visitor to enter. He was  on time.  You could set your watch by Kevin Darling’s actions.

The door opened and the tall figure of Kevin  Darling entered, looking round and smiling at Edmund. Edmund  smiled back at him as the  other man took a place in another armchair opposite him.

“Afternoon, Edd,” Kevin said with false brightness, his eyes traveling to the folded newspaper resting upon the table. “Anything interesting in that paper?”

Shaking his head, Edmund muttered a turse reply. “Just the media threatening war with Germany, again,” he said miserably, sinking back against the cushened back rest and closing his eyes. He let out another deep sigh. “They’re thinking of fitting people with gass masks, and apparently they’re already putting sand bags around the cities. What is the world coming to, Kevin? What is the world coming to?” A hint of nervousness krept into his voice. “No one wants to go to war again, do they?”

Kevin   nodded grimly. He had read all of this as well, of course. “I know,” he said soothingly, “it’s a bad situation. Apparently, Neville Chambelain’s going to try and have another peace talk with Hitler.”

Edmund snorted with  bitter laughter. “Do me a favour,” he scoffed, “that man’s peace talks won’t get us  anywhere. Churchill got it right, you know. We should have stopped Hitler back in thirty six when he  remilitarised the Rhineland.”

 Kevin sighed. He had heard this argument many times. Edmund himself had argued this  point day after day, siding with the bulldog of politics, while Kevin  privately agreed with Mr  Chamberlain’s method of war prevention.  Both men knew that each stood on the opposite side of the debate but both were  careful never to allow the debate to  souer their  friendship, the friendship that had grown over the  years since armistice day 1918.

“Do you not think a peace  talk might work, though?” Kevin Darling asked tentatively, knowing that he was walking on  fairly shakey ground in asking this question.

With a decisive  shake of his head, Edmund dispelled the notion of possible belief. “Absolutely not Kevin,” he snapped, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Hitler won’t listen. I’m surprised that our politicians don’t know that. Mr Chamberlain’s putting everyone in danger. We know he is.”

Kevin didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything to say. It was clear that Edmund would never agree. His memories of the previous war were clearly too raw to be placed aside. The man’s  bitterness was eating him up from the inside, at least, that was what Kevin thought. He frowned. They would just have to agree to disagree on that score, it seemed.

“Do you think we’ll go to war this year, then?” Edmund asked, nervous once again. “The newspapers seem to think we will.”

Kevin Darling could not respond. He had friends in the government and even they were growing worried at the current situation. Some of his political friends thought Britain would be tossed into war with Germany by Christmas. Kevin prayed that this would not be the case, but threats from Germany were putting everyone on edge.

“I really can’t tell you,” he said dejectedly. “I hope not, but people seem to think so.” His face brightened somewhat. “But that won’t effect either of us, you know that. We won’t have to go and fight at the front.” His face relaxed slightly.

 Kevin too had been injured at the front lines in 1917. His injuries had been mental as well as physical. Shell shock. That was what they had called it. Kevin had also sustained a life changing injury from a bullet to his spine. He would be unable to fight on the front lines either.   

Edmund snorted with derisive laughter. “That’s what annoys me most,” he told his friend, “I want to fight at the front.” His eyes gazed into the distance as if trying to remember something painful. “I just hope that we don’t have to even think about fighting at the front, that’s all.”

Kevin frowned. He  couldn’t disagree with that one. “I hope so to,” he said fervently, “I really do hope so. I never want t go to war with Germany again." “Amen to that.”


End file.
